1
On his arrival at the office next morning Luke was somewhat surprised
to receive a visit in his office from Mr. Arthur Dobson. Apparently
Mr. Dobson had something on his mind. He wandered about nervously
saying incoherent things about the weather.
"Anything doing?" asked Luke.
"Nothing much. I say, I've found a new place to lunch at. It's run by
an Italian, Malodorato. Quite a little place, in Mud Lane. Still there
it is, you know. Five courses for one and threepence. That takes some
beating."
"Stuff must be pretty bad."
"Well, possibly yes. But think what a lot of it you get for your
money. Come and lunch there to-day."
"Thanks. I have promised to go up to Gallows to-day to lunch with the
Tyburns."
"You and your aristocratic friends. Well, I could tell you something,
Mr. Sharper. I ought not to. It would have to be distinctly understood
that you don't breathe a word about it to a soul."
"Of course, of course."
"Very well, then. You look at that sheet of office paper. Old Cain has
got his name above the line, and yours and mine beneath it. Well, I
may tell you that in a few days' time the only name below the line
will be your own. I'm being taken into partnership."
"What a damned shame! I mean to say, I congratulate you. That old
blighter has been talking about taking me into partnership for the
last two years. At any rate, I have."
"I only talked to him about it once. You see, I happen to be the only
one of us three that understands the manufacturing side. You've never
been inside the factory in your life. Diggle hardly ever goes, except
to make a fool of himself by some damn silly suggestion. No, he keeps
to the financial side. He's got a whole pack of doubtful financial
dodges, and he'll get seven years for one of them some day. All I did
was to tell Diggle that I was applying for the post of manager in a
certain rival firm, having had twenty years' experience here. And I
asked him if he would give me a testimonial. He said: 'No, but I will
give you a partnership.' You don't seem to get hold of the right way
of doing things, Sharper."
"All the same," said Sharper, "I'm going straight off to Diggle's room
now, and I'm going to give him hell."
"Oh, I say, you can't do that. If he knew I'd told you, there'd be the
very devil of a row."
"Oh, he won't know. I may be a high-minded sufferer, but I'm a very
fair liar as well. I'll put it right for you."
He entered Mr. Diggle's room. Mr. Diggle, seated with his back to him,
continued the letter he was writing.
"Look here," said Sharper impulsively, "what have you been and done
with that partnership of mine?"
"That you, Sharper? Sit down. I shall be a minute or two. I said, sit
down. I did not ask you to twist your feet round the legs of the
chair. Refrain also from waggling your toes violently. It interrupts
my train of thought. Keep the hand still, if you please. Thank you."
There were three minutes of absolute silence during which Diggle, in
the most leisurely way possible, finished and blotted his letter.
"And now, Sharper," said Diggle, "I think you wished to say
something."
"Well, I mean to say, what have you been and done with my
partnership?"
"I was not aware that you had one."
"No, but you promised me. And now you've gone and given it to Dobson."
"I promised you nothing. And that, I think, is what you have got.
Dobson is very gravely in error in telling you anything at all about
it. If you will kindly send him here, I will speak to him on the
subject."
"Dobson never said a single word about it. I'll take my Bible oath he
never did. He came into my room and began to speak in rather a
dictatorial way, and I said, 'You might be a partner,' and he
blushed."
"I do not think so," said Diggle. "Dobson does not blush. If he did
blush it could not show on that complexion."
"But on my word of honor he did. White-faced men blush red. Red-faced
men blush purple. Any man of science will tell you that."
"The appointment of a partnership is entirely within my discretion. It
has nothing to do with you. If you have nothing further to say, I need
not detain you."
"I've a lot more to say, only I can't think of it. I never can. But
it's there. Inside my head. On the letter paper you and he will have
your names above the line, and mine will be below it."
"That merely shows that I know where to draw the line. I wish you
did."
"It's not for myself I mind so much. It's those dear little books of
mine. All bound in lilac morocco. Sitting down. It's just as if they
were slighted. If this kind of thing goes on, I shan't play any more."
"I'm not asking you to. But you can return to your work. And you
remind me. I have had a bill from the binders of those books sent in
to the firm's account. I have explained that this should be charged to
your private account. You will get it in due course. Close the door
quietly, please, as you go out."
On his way back to his own room Luke again encountered Arthur Dobson.
"It's all right," said Luke, "I said you didn't tell me, but had given
it away by blushing when I chanced to speak of it."
"Couldn't you have thought of a better one than that?"
"Oh, it's all right. And I don't mind telling you I've given him a
pretty good dressing-down. I let him have the rough side of my
tongue."
"Ah," said Dobson, "now that really is something like a lie."
Luke went back to his own room and sat there deep in thought. Why was
everybody so hard and cold? Diggle, Dobson, Mabel--they were all so
cruel and rude to him. Nobody loved him. Except Dot and Dash, and
possibly ...
No, that was not to be thought of.
All the same it reminded him that it was time for him to brush his
hair and wash his little hands, and go up to lunch at Gallows.
2
It was a large luncheon party, for Gallows was full of guests.
Everybody was very merry and bright, except Luke. Tyburn was specially
elated, for his little drive with the zebras had only cost thirteen
hundred altogether. There had apparently been a terrific rag the night
before. While the guests were at dinner, Tyburn arranged for a number
of wild beasts to be brought up from the Mammoth Circus. One was put
into the bedroom of each guest to greet him or her on going to bed.
No, there had been no real damage done. One of the lions had fainted.
It had been given sal volatile, and had recovered. Only three of the
animals and two of the guests were missing. And one of the guests was
a Bishop who had never been really wanted. Jona told the whole story
hilariously.
Why was it, Luke asked himself, that she was always so merry and
bright with others, and so very different when she was with him? Could
it be that she wore a mask to the rest of the world, and disclosed her
real self only to him? It could. It could also be just the other way
round. That was the annoying part of it.
He was depressed during lunch. The story of Tyburn's practical joke of
the previous evening had upset him. He did not like these practical
jokes. He was nervous. He felt that at any moment, at a preconcerted
signal, the table might blow up, or the ceiling fall down. Everybody
else would laugh, and he would hate it. He seldom laughed at anything
anybody else laughed at, though he enjoyed some little jokes of his
own that nobody else seemed to appreciate. Especially Mabel. She
seemed to be enjoying herself at the other side of the table, laughing
at the stories that Major Capstan was telling her. From the Major's
expression, Luke diagnosed that the stories were not quite--well, not
exactly--oh, you know. Would it be Doom Dagshaw or Major Capstan? Oh,
what was he thinking of?
Why had he not been put next to Jona? Why did the girl on his right,
whom he had never met before, persist in addressing him as Funnyface?
Why is a mouse when it spins? The world was full of conundrums.
In the garden after lunch, Jona came straight up to him.
"We are going to play games," she said.
"What games?"
"Well, this morning we played leap-frog down the stairs. That was a
little idea of Bill's."
Luke had noticed at lunch that two of the guests wore sticking-plaster
on their noses. This explained it.
"I don't think I should like playing leap-frog," he said. "I sometimes
play at boats with Dot."
"We'll play at hide-and-seek," said Jona. "You and I will hide
together. Come along."
They hid in the cool dusk of the tool-shed. Jona sat on the
wheelbarrow and talked, and talked, and talked.
At the end of half-an-hour, Luke had failed to ask her what she had
meant by certain things on the day that she had called at his office.
He made rather a specialty of not being able to say anything that he
particularly wanted to say.
He said: "It's funny they've not found us yet."
"Not so very funny," said Jona. "You see, I forgot to tell any of them
that we were going to play this game. Here's one of the gardeners
coming. Damn. I suppose we'd better join the rest of the crowd."
It was not until Mabel and Luke were leaving that Luke got a chance of
another word with Jona.
"We're leaving for town to-morrow," said Jona. "You'll write and tell
me everything that's in your old head, won't you?"
Luke felt that he ought not to write. Mabel would not like it. It
would be wrong.
"Thanks," he said, "we so seldom have any postage stamps in the house.
And I've lost my Onoto pen, and I sprained my wrist falling off my
bicycle."
"Oh, do write, Lukie dear." She held out her hand to him.
"Good-by," he said, and ran down the steps. At the bottom of the steps
stood the cab, an interesting antique, which was to convey Mabel home.
Mabel and Major Capstan were waiting near the door.
"You only took about twenty minutes saying good-by to Lady Tyburn,"
said Mabel. "I'm giving Major Capstan a lift. If you think it's fair
on the horse to ask it to draw the three of us, get in, of course.
Otherwise, it's beautiful weather for a nice walk."
"I will walk," said Luke. "I prefer it." He wished to be alone.
He sat down on the first milestone in the road, and meditated with his
head in his hands.
Mabel. His wife. He was very good to her. He had been perfectly
faithful to her. And was it worth while? What did she think about him?
How much did she care for him? There were two men after her. He seemed
to visualize the situation as a scrap from the stop-press of a
newspaper.
1. MABEL.
2. DOOM.
3. CAPSTAN.
Also ran. Luke Sharper, Esq.
3
He recalled some of the things Jona had said to him in the tool-shed.
She had been rather frank in speaking of her husband.
"Bill's wonderful," she said. "He caught the tiger last night. When
the keeper couldn't get it. He does everything well. He is the most
fascinating man in the world--until you get used to him. I've got used
to him. He fascinates all women. That would not matter so much, but
nearly all women fascinate him. I pretend not to notice it. I think he
does it partly to see how I will take it. I remain merry and bright.
With a breaking heart, you understand. How much longer I shall be able
to stand it, I do not know. Oh, my hands are so cold."
He had noticed a pair of the gardener's gloves lying on the
lawn-mower. He handed them to her. She flung them away, a little
petulantly it seemed to him.
He rose from the milestone and walked on. Certain words seemed to keep
time with his footsteps. "She wants me to write to her. And I ought
not. She wants me to write to her. And I ought not."
He passed the post-office, and turned back to it again. Went on, and
again turned back. This time he entered with his mind all bemused.
"Have you any nice stamps?" he asked.